


easy to come undone

by Lire_Casander



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Coma, Eventual Kyle Valenti/Jenna Cameron, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hospitals, Injured Character, Minor Violence, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Shooting, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: my emotions got to me; blindness all i couldn’t see; now i feel anything but grief
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	easy to come undone

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt _something happens to kyle that has him near breaking point emotionally (eg sheriff valenti gets seriously hurt on the job or something else). it makes everyone realise just how much kyle has been there for all of them in some way when they needed it and they all return that support in_ his _time of need._ ~ over at discord
> 
> Title and summary from Tyler Blackburn's song _Hard To Forget_.
> 
> Unbeta'ed. Any mistakes are my own.

Kyle’s on his day off when he receives a call from the hospital, barefoot and lounging carelessly on his couch, free even from alien duty now that they have dismantled Project Shepherd and Max Evans is back. Out of habit, he picks it up with his best professional voice, expecting to hear Heather Lang at the other side requesting his presence for emergency surgery. That’s why he falters when it’s not Heather’s voice he hears, but a new, much colder woman speaking.

“Doctor Kyle Valenti?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he trips over his own words. “Who’s calling?”. 

“Doctor, my name is Sandra Perkins. I’m calling from Roswell Community Medical. This is about your mother, Michelle Valenti.” Her tone softens, but Kyle doesn’t really listen to anything else she has to say, focusing on getting his shoes on and grabbing his keys all the while effectively tripping over his own feet In his haste to get to the door, distantly hearing _shooting_ and _surgery_ , and all he can think is that he should be the one holding the scalpel.

Kyle’s sure he’s broken at least a dozen traffic laws on his ride to the hospital, but he couldn’t care less. He’s lucky he hasn’t had an accident on his own, running past red lights and skidding whenever he had to take a turn. He parks his car on his assigned spot, barely locking the system before sprinting all his way to the ER entrance.

“Doctor Valenti?” Heather calls him as he runs past the nurses’ control center. “Doctor! You can’t get inside!”

He ignores her, only stopping when the doors to the ER close abruptly on his face. He grunts, pushing at them, but they remain locked. He fishes for his identification, but in his haste he’s forgotten it along with his apartment keys, on the bowl he keeps by the entrance hall of his home. Kyle realizes, with a dawning feeling, that he left his apartment unlocked.

He couldn’t care less.

“I have to get inside,” he growls when Heather reaches him cautiously. “I have to get in!”

“Why don’t you sit down in the waiting room, Doctor?” Heather offers instead, softly, warmly. “I’m sure Doctor Lopes will have you updated soon.”

“Is Allison with her?” Kyle asks stupidly. He regrets not having paid attention to the woman who’s explained the situation to him over the phone – he doesn’t even remember her name. “I–Heather, I need to know what’s going on,” he finally relents, allowing the nurse to lead him to the waiting room. She helps him sit down and promises to keep him updated.

His mother doesn’t make it out of surgery for over four hours, and Kyle is nearly tearing down the walls of the waiting room when Heather enters again and calls his name. “Doctor,” she says with a small smile he recognizes from their times facing family members together. “Your mother is out of surgery now. She’ll be in recovery for another couple of hours at least, and then she’ll be taken to a room. I’d suggest you go home, take a shower and have a nap and come back then. Your mother needs you in good shape,” she adds, winking at him.

Any other time, Kyle would have laughed heartily, but right now he feels her suggestions are outrageous. However, he knows she’s right – his mother will be recovering from the surgery, asleep from the anesthesia, so it’s his turn to take care of himself and get ready to be able to take care of her. From what heʼs gathered from the doctors and interns coming in and out during his long hours of waiting, his mother has suffered a nasty shot close to her liver, and although she’ll live, recovery might be strenuous and long. Kyle nods curtly, turning on his heels and walking out of the hospital with trembling legs.

The way back to his apartment is as hasty as the way to the hospital had been. He can’t get there soon enough; he flinches when the door opens just with one shove, remembering with a cringe that he’s forgotten the keys inside. He can’t get into his shower soon enough, into a new shirt soon enough. He doesn’t even remember how he’s managed to get a coffee stain on his white and blue shirt, but maybe it was there before because he hadn’t even changed clothes before getting outside his apartment before. Kyle discards it onto the growing pile of laundry he has to do, and slips into his sneakers once again. He’s going to ignore Heather’s suggestion of taking a nap – he can sleep on almost any surface, so the chairs at the waiting room will suffice – when a knock on his door startles him.

“Coming!” he announces warily. He doesn’t want to face anyone right now, and if it’s the old lady two doors down the hall asking for help with her groceries he’s going to snap. He opens the door forcefully, ready to kill, only to be faced by Alex Manes. “Alex,” he breathes out.

“I have the inkling that you’ve forgotten about our lunch group date?” Alex says as a way of greeting, leaning into the door frame. “What’s going on, Kyle? You look like shit.”

And those four words are all it takes for Kyle’s self-control to break like a dam. He begins shaking and he notices, with rising fear, that there are tears already running hot down his cheeks. He reaches out to perch himself on the frame as well, but his hand is trembling too much and he misses the wood for a couple of inches, stumbling forward. Alex, somehow, is ready to catch him and he’s engulfed by warmth and soothing hands on his spine. “Alright, Kyle,” Alex whispers in his ear. “Let’s get inside, okay? Let me help you.”

Somehow, Alex manages to take him back to his couch and have him sit on it for a second while he tries to understand what Kyle’s saying in between stutters and hiccups. Kyle’s aware that he’s hyperventilating, and that he’s probably not making any sense, but Alex listens patiently as Kyle threshes through the tale of how his mother’s been caught in a crossfire, landing a shot that had almost killed her, and how he’s been called by an unknown, cold woman who hasn’t even attempted at being careful in her retelling of the circumstances regarding Kyle’s mom being admitted to the hospital. All the while Alex remains still in his stance, tall and dark, listening carefully. It’s only after Kyle has finished his story, wiping out his tears from his cheeks, that Alex moves, strolling to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of water, as if he owned the space.

“Drink,” he commands, sitting next to Kyle and punching something into his phone.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asks after gulping some of the water, allowing it to scratch his throat on its way down.

“I’m calling for reinforcements,” Alex replies shortly, putting his phone aside and looking back at Kyle. “If you’re ready, I can take you to the hospital, although you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Kyle says stubbornly. “What do you mean, _reinforcements_? We’re gonna have to talk about your tendency to talk war daily.”

“Let’s go, then,” Alex insists, standing up and tugging at him. Kyle moves eagerly, already wanting to be at the hospital by his mother’s bedside before she wakes up.

Riding shotgun allows Kyle to think on their way to the hospital. It’s not a long trip, but it’s enough for him to dwell on the fact that he almost lost his mother. Kyle only has his mom left – even if they don’t see eye to eye sometimes, they’re the only family left for each other, and she getting so close to death has opened Kyle’s eyes to a future that he hasn’t wanted to think about as of lately.

When his father died – and even now that he knows the truth behind his passing – Kyle had relied on his studies, on his job, and he’d left his mother to grieve by herself. He’d been so angry at God for allowing such terrible illness to grasp people and take them away when he should have been celebrating his father’s life and all the good things he’d given to Kyle. A family, a half-sister even if at the very beginning he wasn’t sure about how to take that. The Valenti Code, a legacy to destroy. He’d worshipped his father, and he’d forgotten about his mother.

Now, Kyle is ashamed of all the times he’s argued with her, of all the nights spent apart when he was younger and furious at her for being the _bad cop_ , grounding him for his bad grades or for drinking underage or for whatever felony he might have come up with. He only wants her to wake up so he can apologize and promise to be a better son, to try to understand her more, to try to live by her code, because even if the Valenti Code is something to be proud of – despite Jim Valenti having been despicable on his relationship with aliens – Michelle’s Code is even clearer and sharper.

Do no harm. Abide by the laws. Help others. Be brave but not fearless, for courage is not the absence of fear. When his mom had first told him that line, he’d laughed at her and reminded her that the quote wasn’t hers. She’d just smiled back and ruffled his hair. Now that he’s older, after everything he’s gone through – all the things he’s got to do to keep himself and his friends and family safe – he understands his mother. He understands the feeling of utter panic at the unknown coming down on him, but she gave him the means to fight back and never back down.

He needs her to be awake so he can thank her for her lessons.

When Alex pulls up at the hospital parking lot, in Kyle’s usual spot, there is a small welcome party gathering by the entrance. Liz and Maria step forward and hug him just as he’s sliding out of the car, while Max and Isobel remain a little behind, hovering over Michael who’s propped against one of the parking poles. All of them look worried, and maybe it’s a reflection of how Kyle feels. He clings to Liz and Maria for a second and then walks towards the siblings that are looking weary around themselves.

“Thanks for being here,” he says affectionately, patting Isobel’s arm softly. “I know being around a hospital is difficult for you. You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yes, we did,” Isobel replies with a small smile that doesn’t really hide her nervousness. “We want to be here for you. _All_ of us.”

Kyle grimaces as he steps away and towards the entrance. The group follows him, surrounding him while stepping in synch a few feet behind and around him. Heather is on the reception desk waiting for him; she frowns when she sees the group approaching but soon she schools her features into her professional smile and tall stance. “Doctor,” she greets. “I’m glad you’re back so soon. Your mother is about to be brought up to room 326, you can go there to wait for her now. Sadly,” she continues, glancing at the rest of them, “we have a strict visit policy. Only two people per room at the same time allowed. I’m sorry, I can’t let you all come in.”

“I’ll go with you, if you want some company,” Allex offers. The rest nod in agreement. “You don’t have to wait on your own.”

Kyle’s overwhelmed with the feeling of caring he’s vibing from them all, deep down in his very core. If Isobel’s furrowed brow is any telling, she’s projecting the emotion so he can know they support him. A smile creeps its way into his lips, and he can’t help it from spreading. “Yeah, let’s go,” he says, mimicking Alex’s earlier words, and he saunters into the hallways in search of the room he’s been told, stopping by the elevators to jump into one so they can reach the third floor sooner than if they’d taken the stairs.

When his mother’s brought to the room, Kyle already knows what she’ll look like, but it doesn’t prevent him from flinching when he sees her covered in bandages and with at least three different fluid bags attached to an IV on her left arm. He takes a shaky breath in, and approaches the bed after the nurses have already left, sending pitying glances his way. “You’re going to be okay, mom,” he whispers, a tear escaping his eyelashes. She seems so small against the white, impersonal sheets, and Kyle feels so impotent. Alex sighs by his side, sliding an arm around Kyle’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “You’re going to be okay,” he repeats, muffled by tears as Alex helps him turn and hide his face in Alex’s Air Force shirt. Kyle clings to his friend as if Alex is the last thread of sanity left in the world, and maybe he is.

Kyle is pretty sure he’s slowly becoming crazy, the longer his mother takes to wake up. The first night is hard enough on him, not having really slept anything the night before – and although Liz replaces Alex as his counterpart for the watch, Kyle doesn’t allow himself to even blink. His mother doesn’t wake up, and in the morning he’s dismissed from his duty, forced to take a leave due to personal reasons. His fellow workmates don’t really tell him much, only that Michelle Valenti is a tough woman who will get through this sooner rather than later, and by the time the second night rolls by Kyle’s ready to murder.

His mother has yet to open her eyes, and Kyle feels as his own eyelids betray him. He’s extenuated, running on coffee and adrenaline, but even his training as an intern and his shifts in ER haven’t prepared him for the straining exhaustion that overcomes him whenever he dares a glimpse at the bed where his mother is blissfully unaware of the pain the situation is causing him. During the day, Maria’s been the one to keep him company, alleging that she doesn’t have to open the bar until seven; so when the time comes for her to leave, Kyle’s expecting either Liz or Alex to cross the threshold, but the silhouette that strolls right into the room startles him awake enough.

Max Evans makes a beeline for the bed and comes to a halt right a few inches from the structure. “I’m sorry I can’t heal her,” he whispers, almost too low for Kyle to catch up on it. “I wish I could be of any help.”

“People would notice anyway if all of a sudden my mother woke up from her coma,” Kyle offers. “Don’t beat yourself up with this. Just–catch the bastard and bring them to justice.”

“Oh, already done that,” Max smiles softly as he looks up from the form in the bed to watch Kyle carefully. “Iz used some of her tricks and we found out who shot the gun. Brady Long’s going to spend some quality time getting acquainted with the county prison.”

“Brady Long?” Kyle screeches. He hushes himself under Max’s inquisitive gaze. “As in, Wyatt Long’s older brother?”

“Yeah,” Max shrugs. “You know he’s shady enough to give anyone the creeps. Guess Sheriff Valenti found out about some of his drug deals and called his bluff. But he’s now behind bars, and he’s going to spend a lot of time thinking about what he’s done.”

“What have _you_ done, Evans?” Kyle asks suspiciously.

Max shrugs again. “I just caught the bastard.”

“And Isobel and Guerin?” Kyle expands his question, eyebrow quirked up in both amusement and fear. 

“I already told you, Isobel helped us catch Long off guard. And Michael–let’s say Michael’s given Long food for his thoughts. I guess it’ll be long until that son of a bitch forgets the sound of his own furniture rattling over his head.”

Kyle has to chuckle at the image of an angry Michael Guerin making Brady Long’s shitty, stolen furniture fly around in an attempt to scare the guy. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”

“I think Alex has it on tape.”

And at that? Kyle has to full-on laugh.

The third and fourth day come and go in a blur. His mother still doesn’t wake up, and although Kyle’s training as a surgeon keeps him grounded, he’s also a son and he can’t help growing antsy as the hours pass without any changes. Her doctors assure him she’s going to wake up, that she’s just on too many different drugs to keep the pain at bay and that it’s difficult to estimate the exact moment when they’ll run off her system enough to allow her to open her eyes. Kyle wants to punch the fifth doctor and the ninth nurse who repeat those exact words to him. He’s lucky Rosa’s the one appointed to spend time with him that day; he’s itching to ask why they keep guard on him and on his mother, when they all have their lives and their own problems, but whenever he’s asked any of them they just dismiss him with a wave of hands and a nod of heads.

“What are you doing, Rosa?” he cautiously asks when the last string of doctors and nurses have left the room. His sister is arranging the flower bouquet she’s brought with her, settling rose by rose in a vase on the windowsill, and she stops her motions to stare at him with a guarded look in her eyes.

“What do you mean, hermanito?” After a beat, she resumes her work, setting the roses by color and size inside the vase.

“I _mean_ ,” he stresses out with a sigh. “You all have your lives, why do you keep coming here? It’s not as if my mom’s going to wake up anytime soon.”

“Well, she might,” Rosa chides him. “She might be hearing everything we say. Plus,” she adds, staring him intently, “we don’t want you to get through this alone.”

“Why not? It’s not as if I can’t stand it,” he protests. 

“We _know_ you’re adult enough to manage this situation, Kyle,” she explains softly. “But that doesn’t mean you _have_ to do it on your own. We’re your family, Kyle. We want to be here for you, just the same you’ve always been there for us whenever we’ve needed you.”

Kyle finds out he doesn’t have a witty reply to her words, mainly because they seep through his bones until he’s soaked in their truth. He remembers distinctly thinking that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all while his mother was in this state, but then Alex and Liz and Maria had camped beside him in the room, taking turns to sleep, so he’s been able to catch a break and slumber has been welcome, albeit scarce. He remembers believing that, without his mother to bark orders, no one would ever be able to arrest the criminal who shot her, but then Max Evans had taken matters into his own hands despite not having recovered his alien powers yet, and Brady Long’s already in jail after a bit of encouragement to confess from both Isobel Evans and Michael Guerin. And Rosa – who’s trying to build a new life of her own in this new world where the dead walked the Earth – Rosa’s been spending every waking hour with him, lighting the room with her energy and her art, sticking graffitis to every wall so when his mother wakes up she does so to a bright and colorful room.

Kyle’s never felt so cherished by anyone outside his blood family. “Thank you,” he whispers, overwhelmed and a bit teary.

“Shut up, tonto,” Rosa cuts him. “Nothing to thank anyone for. Family does what family has to do. And speaking of family,” she gestures towards the door. Kyle’s been so wrapped up in understanding where all the love he’s been feeling was coming from that he hadn’t noticed the shadow cast inside the room from the lights in the hallway. He turns around quickly, and his mouth falls open as he’s left speechless.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” Jenna Cameron says as she enters the room with an unsure step. “I had to tie some loose ends in Ohio before I could even catch a red-eye. How’s Sheriff Valenti doing?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Kyle marvels, blinking rapidly. He hates how emotional he’s become these past few days. Being faced with the prospect of a life without his mother has turned him soft. 

He’s thrilled to be able to talk to Jenna Cameron again, after how they left things the last time she’d been down to Roswell to gather the few belongings she’d left behind. Kyle knows he said and did so many things so wrong that whenever he gets a reminder of those days he cringes at himself. He’s never had the chance to apologize, to tell Jenna how sorry he is that he will never be enough for her – even if they tried a long-distance whatever kind of relationship that didn’t work in the end, because Kyle’s not made for virtual relationships.

Or so he thought, because the moment she had stepped out of his life, Kyle had been so lost that not even his usual coping mechanisms – alcohol, work, gym – had been enough to keep him from mourning the death of something he’d killed before even giving it a chance to be born.

Rosa excuses herself and slides past Jenna out of the room, not before winking at him with the smirk they all already associate with her. 

“Manes called me,” she explains. “Didn’t say much, except that Sheriff Valenti had been shot, and I knew I had to come here.”

“Because she was your boss,” Kyle says, in an attempt to reassure himself that she’s here just because his mother’s injured and in a coma.

“That, too,” she replies. She’s stalled in the middle of the room, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as though she’s nervous. Kyle holds his breath. “I needed to make sure you were fine, Kyle,” she finally confesses, after a silence that’s dragged for far too long. “How are _you_ doing?”

“I’m–”

“Please don’t tell her you’re alright,” comes a croaky voice from behind him. He almost jumps out of his own skin, both thrilled that he’s listening to his mother talking and irritated that she’s been awake for a whole two seconds and she’s already interrupting him.

“Mom!” he turns around and cries out, flinging himself to the bed, not even caring that there are people there who could watch him act like a child. “You’re awake!”

“Been for a while,” she says softly. Kyle hastily prompts her to drink some water, forgetting all about Jenna and their conversation, but he couldn’t care less right now because his mother is _finally_ awake. “Just go talk to your girl,” Michelle whispers.

“She’s not–”

“Don’t worry, Sheriff,” Jenna cuts him. She’s walked further into the room and is now standing opposite to Kyle, on the other side of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.” And it’s said with such intent that Kyle has to look up from his mother to Jenna, to make sure he’s not hearing too much into what she’s saying. “I’m not going anywhere, Kyle,” she repeats.

Kyle smiles slowly, one hand holding onto his mother’s hand while the other reaches out to Jenna. He waits for a beat for Jenna to make up her mind, to decide whether she wants to own up to her words. He really wishes she does.

Jenna takes his hand.


End file.
